


Lost and found

by NohaIjiachi



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NohaIjiachi/pseuds/NohaIjiachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy is searching for a thing. He finds it. Then he finds it again years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and found

_"What are you doing?"_  
_"Oh- Sorry for waking you up, buddy." Foggy said, not turning to look at his roomie in favor of keeping rummaging through his drawers. He was sitting in the middle of a mess, clothes and empty boxes a circle around him. "Just searching a thing."_  
_"I would offer to help you, but you know-" Matt yawned. "And you didn't woke me."_  
_"Yeah, don't worry." Foggy replied, finally giving up. Maybe he lost it, or just forgot to put it in his box of summer clothes... It was probably still home. He'd call his mom and ask, later._  
_"What are you searching for, by the way?" Matt asked, disentangling himself from the light blanket he slept in. "Maybe I can help?"_  
_"Its nothing important or urgent, Matty, don't worry." Foggy said, stretching and finally turning. "It's just-"_  
_A shirt. The one Matt was wearing now, crumpled and faded with use._  
_Foggy found himself unable to stop thinking at how utterly adorable Matt looked, with his bed hair and sleepy eyes, and Foggy's shirt that was big already for him, but fell like a giant soft tent on Matt's leaner frame._  
_"Just?" Matt pressed, inclining his head on a side._  
_"- A book." Foggy found himself lying without really knowing why. "My brother lent me- but maybe I just left it home. Don't worry about it."_  
_Matt frowned and a strange silence fell between them, until Foggy casually said. "Nice shirt."_  
_Matt stopped frowning and turned his face on the left. "Oh- uhm- I found it in my laundry but I'm not sure its mine." He said. "Last time in the laundry room I accidentally bumped into a guy- I guess it may have fallen between my stuff. Its very comfortable." He added softly, as an afterthought. "... Is it yours by any chance?" He then asked, something weird hanging in his voice._  
_"No." Foggy lied again. It was one of his dad's old shirts, one of the many of his favorite football team, and the only reason he still used it was because how comfortable it was, as Matt helpfully pointed out. He couldn't say that he had any particular attachment to it, and there was something in the way Matt was holding the old, so soft fabric that gave Foggy the impression he wanted to keep it._  
_He was sure that if he said the truth, Matt, as the nice guy he was, would just give it back without listening any reason._  
_"Not mine." He said again, with a grin._  
_Matt smiled to him._

**

Foggy didn't bother to knock and just let himself in.  
He was welcomed by the loud honk of Matt blowing his nose, as he was laying on the couch in sweatpants and a big shirt so faded it was nearly completely white. He looked utterly miserable.  
Karen had decided to put her foot down after three weeks spent passing each other the same disgusting flu, and prohibited to whoever was not perfectly healthy to come to the office. It was a smart move, but Foggy felt really bad for leaving his best friend alone with his snot for so long (and wanted to make sure he didn't sneak out doing his Daredevil-y things while he was still ill), so he decided to challenge their secretary/mother hen.  
"Hello dear, I've decided to ignore Karen's embargo and put my neck out there to bring you chicken broth." He said cheerfully, putting the bag containing said broth in a bottle on Matt's kitchen counter. "Worked miracles with me!"  
Matt groaned pitifully "Thanks. Not hungry right now." He croaked out. He patted the coffe table in search of his glasses and put them on, presumably to hide how bloodshot his eyes must be behind the red lenses. Foggy looked at the ceiling with a sigh.  
"Because I feel like ignoring people opinion's today, I will heat it up and you are gonna drink some of it." He said, matter-of-factly, deaf to Matt's moan.  
Not bothering to try and win a battle that was already lost, Matt slowly sat as Foggy left the pot of broth heating on the stove and circled the couch to go sit on the armchair. He looked at Matt, ready to crack a joke at his expenses, when a thought striked him, and he fell silent.  
Matt frowned at him behind the glasses when he kept staring without saying anything.  
"Something's wrong?" He croaked.  
"No, just..." Foggy replied, distracted. "That shirt looks familiar."  
Matt froze.  
"Did you had it back in colleg- wait." Foggy squinted, then his face lit up with realization. "Oh, right! I remember that! It was one of my dad's old shirts. Probably got mixed up with your laundry." He scratched the back of his head, a little bit embarrassed. "You knew I was lying back then, didn't you? I just wanted you to keep it, it looked like it was comfy for you."  
Matt still wasn't saying anything. If only, he looked like he was doing the deer-in-the-headlights look behind the glasses. Foggy frowned, perplexed, before realization hit him.  
"... You knew it was mine." He said, slowly. "You could probably smell it, or something."  
Amazingly enough, Matt started to blush. "It really got mixed up with my laundry." He murmured, full of shame. "I knew it was yours. But I forgot to wash my pajama and I had nothing to sleep in so I put it on. I was sure you wouldn't mind. I wanted to tell you the next morning but the fabric felt really nice on my skin, and..."  
Foggy watched mildly fascinated how flustered Matt looked by the second. He had never seen his cheek quite so red since he met the guy.  
"And?" He pressed, gently.  
Matt cleared his throat. "It smelled like you." He added with a tiny voice. "It was comforting."  
"And you kept it _all these years?_ "  
Matt looked by all means like a man hoping a hole would open under him and swallow him. "Yes." He said, voice so low Foggy had to lean over to hear him. "Its still so soft, and faintly smells like you, if I concentrate."  
Silence fell between them for some seconds. Foggy ran a hand through his hair.  
"You..." He started, and Matt flinched, clearly embracing for something. "... Are the biggest _dork_ I ever met. Devil of Hell's Kitchen _my ass_."  
Matt tensed a little bit more and then relaxed, turning his face up to him. "You are not... Mad?" He asked, voice back to a more normal tone.  
"For what, stealing my shirt to use it as a safe blanket?" Foggy laughed, as Matt, by all means, _pouted_ at him, murmuring "Its not a safe blanket."  
"A _blankie_ , Matt! You are an embarrassment to super heroes worldwide!"  
"Ehi!"  
They both jumped by the sound of the chicken broth angry boiling, and Foggy run to go turn off the fire on the stove, still laughing. Matt wasn't blushing anymore. If only, he looked very offended at Foggy's insinuations, his chin up in righteous indignation.  
Still chuckling, Foggy put some broth in a cup and put it on the coffe table between them, sitting back on the armchair.  
"I reject every accusations-" Matt started, rapidly interrupted by his partner.  
"Shut up and drink your broth, _Linus_."  
Matt took his glasses off, glared at him with unfocused, wet and really not scary at all eyes, and took the cup to take a sip, scrunching his nose.  
"That's _so_ gonna be the first thing I will tell everyone once people will find out you are Daredevil and journalists will beg at my door for an interview." Foggy said, merciless glee in his voice. Matt immediately replied "Shut up, Foggy!" But in the end he gave to his laughter, smiling at him from behind the cup and then started laughing with him.  
They laughed for a while.  
The shirt was still too big for Matty.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahahahahhaha- *sobs in hand* I don't know what happened to me but I totally fell for these stupid nerd avocados. They do things to my feels.


End file.
